


Rung Out

by indigo (indigo_angels)



Series: Mission Arc [2]
Category: The A-Team (2010), The A-Team - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-30 02:05:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17214992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigo_angels/pseuds/indigo
Summary: A young and inexperienced Face feels his way through his new relationship with Hannibal.And yes, the title is spelt correctly :)





	Rung Out

Face slammed open the door to the bunk room and stormed in, ripping his t-shirt up over his head and throwing it across the room in a sweaty ball of frustration.

 

Hannibal had just bawled him out in front of everyone out there, dressed him down like some little kid, a green private, a trouble-maker, not the seasoned pro that he was, two years a Ranger, more adept at solving problems than making them anymore. But that’s not what really had Face’s blood up here, not the fact that Hannibal hadn’t even let him explain his actions before he’d sided with that prick Jenkins and yelled at Face like a naughty school boy, no, that was all bad enough, he could feel his cheeks flush with renewed shame at that, but what was worse was the look in his CO’s eyes, that terrible fury as he let the full force of his temper lash out at his XO – the look that Face had never expected to see again now that the man was his lover.

 

But maybe that’s where he was wrong, he kicked out in painful realisation at the bottom of a solid metal bunk ladder, maybe he and Hannibal weren’t lovers at all, maybe they were just fuck buddies, maybe what Face had thought of as the finest point in his life had just been Hannibal getting through this period of enforced celibacy without losing his mind.

 

 _That_ was the thought that hurt Face, hurt him so much his own anger had blazed hot enough to yell back at Hannibal out there, to shove his CO away from him, and find himself parked on his butt in the dust, his chin smarting from Hannibal’s single blow, only a scant second later. That’s when he had lost it, when he’d felt the tightening of his throat and the hot spikes of tears in his eyes and realised that he’d made the fatal, _fatal_ , error of confusing lust with love.

 

So he’d got to his feet and stormed off, intent on washing all the dirt and sweat and grime and memories of Hannibal’s hands on his body straight down the plug as a quick montage playing out in his head of all the illicit moments they’d enjoyed together so far confirmed the one cold fact that had so far alluded Face’s notice – that Hannibal had never once said he loved him.

 

Face had said it: as his body writhed in pleasure under those wonderful, huge hands; as he choked back tears, being tenderly held in Hannibal’s lap, huge cock buried inside him, the undulations of strong thighs edging him closer and closer to heaven; as he’d drifted back to earth after his body had been taken up to the highest heights and blasted into a million sparks of brilliant light. But Hannibal never had, never even muttered a reluctant ‘me too’ and that sudden, belated realisation hurt so much more than his wounded pride or the fist in his face.

 

Movement out of the window caught Face’s eye and he looked down, seeing the assembled masses ambling slowly across the courtyard below, obviously making their way across the camp to the mess and he shook himself hard, trying to dislodge that cold grip he felt around his heart, intent only on showering away all his misery and trying to pack his heart away nice and tight so that Hannibal Smith couldn’t get to it anymore.

 

But then the door flew open behind him, and despite himself he jumped, recovering enough to stop himself from turning around and instead just unfastening his belt, bare back to the doorway, shoulders rigid with tension.  “Fuck off, Hannibal;” he muttered mutinously, “I’m not in the mood for any more of this right now.”

 

And that was a mistake, of course it was, baiting a fired up Hannibal Smith was always going to be, but Face himself was too keyed up to realise that until his back hit the wall with a thud and a hand fastened around his neck even as he registered the unparalleled anger in the blue eyes boring into him.

 

“Don’t,” Hannibal hissed through his clenched jaw, “you _ever_ speak to me in public like that again, you understand me?”

 

Face used the surge of adrenalin that shot through him to swallow away his fear and forced himself to meet that furious stare head on. “Why?” he shot back, struggling for volume under the pressure around his throat. “You worried someone might think we’re fucking?”

 

Hannibal only squeezed tighter, leaning in, the weight of his body almost crushing Face’s bare chest. “Yes!” he gritted out and Face felt savage, brutal pleasure rip through him at that admission.

 

“Yeah, you wouldn’t want a DADT smear on your nice, shiny Army record now would you, boss?” he spat, refusing to let the burning in his eyes change into anything more shameful. “Not for the sake of a casual fuck anyway! Since that's all I fucking am to you...”

 

For a second those words seemed to stun Hannibal and he pulled back a fraction, his eyes widening, the grip on Face’s neck slackening, but just as Face started to take advantage and push up from the wall, he was back, leaning in, their face’s only inches apart. “No, you stupid prick,” he growled. “I wouldn’t want them knowing how much your scrawny, insubordinate ass means to me! They’d have us shipped off to different sides of the world so fast you wouldn’t have time to pack your hairdryer! Is that what _you_ want?”

 

Now it was Face’s turn to be stunned and he sagged against the wall, those words stealing all his fight better than a fist ever could, but then he met Hannibal’s eyes again and saw all that anger still simmering away, but underneath it there was something else, something Face had never seen before, or maybe he had but just hadn’t recognised it. Yes, there was anger, but there was also desperation there – and fear, fear that he might lose this, he might lose Face. 

 

That realisation ignited a fire in his belly and he surged forward again, not trying to get away this time, but instead going for Hannibal’s mouth with his own, finding it, finding himself shoved back into the cheap wall once more as Hannibal met his assault head on, taking over, turning it on its head, controlling Face and their frantic kiss just like Face always needed him to.

 

It was hard and messy and rough and frenetic, and to Face just so beautiful, so what he needed and wanted and desired from the very pit of his belly that he felt hot tears stinging his closed eyes and opened wider for Hannibal, spreading his legs, his lips and opening his heart as wide as it would go, wanting nothing more than this man to surge right up inside him and claim him forever.

 

Hannibal, fortunately, seemed to understand and kissed back with every ounce of power and possession that Face needed and while their mouths were busy, their hands were involved in their own desperate struggle, fighting with uncooperative belts and zips and buttons until, triumphantly, Face managed to shove his desperate fingers into the newly opened gap in Hannibal’s fly, gripping a hot, hard cock even as two huge hands yanked his own trousers and briefs right down to his knees, freeing his own desperately drooling erection.

 

Face was starting to relax a little now, as much as he could of course with a rock hard cock begging for attention, but this he knew, this was familiar to him and warm and wonderful and Hannibal had almost told him he was more than a casual fuck and that just made it all the more incredible. But then it all changed again, and just as he sagged against the wall, his fingers wrapped around Hannibal’s impressive length, his own erection trapped snugly between two taut stomachs, everything shifted as he was hauled up and away, spun around on the balls of his feet and pushed, face first, into the narrow ladder of the bunk.

His mouth opened to protest, but before a word could be formed, Hannibal’s hand was around his erection, holding tight and pumping fast and the only sound Face could make was a long, low groan, both hands clinging tightly to the rungs of the ladder to help his rubbery legs do their job. While that expert fist worked him into a puddle of writhing goo, Face was vaguely aware of another hand around his ankle, yanking on boot laces and trouser legs and then running upwards, grabbing Face’s calf and forcing his knee to bend, placing a socked foot up on the second rung of the ladder, as Hannibal immediately followed in behind to grind his desperately swollen dick into the cleft of Face’s ass.

 

“Gonna have you right here, Temp,” he whispered in a breath as hot at his words. “Gonna take you now, show you just what you mean to me, how much I want you.”

 

“Yeah...” Face gasped, all he was capable of as he hung onto the ladder, his knuckles white his eyes fixed onto the fist still squeezing his dick, holding him tightly, just right on the edge of too tight, making sure that Face wasn’t going to come until Hannibal was ready for it.

 

“Need to open you up a little first though, make you ready for me,” Hannibal breathed again and Face shuddered at the lust he could hear dripping from every word. And then there were fingers in his ass, two straight away, scissoring him roughly and the familiar smell of lube drifted to Face’s nose and he wondered if the boss always carried it on him like this. All rational thought was suddenly impossible however, as those proficient, questing fingers found what they were looking for and Face lifted up onto his toes, his eyes scrunched tightly shut, a thin, needy whine, drawn from the back of his throat, Hannibal’s fingers mercilessly playing with his prostate.

 

The hand on his cock started moving again, a fast, furious pace and Face let his forehead slump down onto the rung of a ladder, fighting for every breath as the world zeroed in to nothing but the fingers in his ass and the hand on his swollen cock. He realised he was moaning again, a deep, desperate sound every time that pumping hand rubbed over his corona and it appeared to be the last straw as far as Hannibal was concerned.

 

“Oh, fucking hell, kid,” he muttered, his fingers slipping out of their warm hole, “fucking hell...”

 

And then the pressure was back but Face knew it wasn’t fingers this time and even before he’d had the chance to prepare himself - he was breached, filled hot and hard and so quickly that he instinctively pushed up on the foot on the ladder, crying out so loudly that a massive hand clamped across his mouth even as the other one let go of his throbbing cock and wrapped around his hip pulling him straight back down again and impaling him fully on the length inside him.

 

Again Face cried out, his sound muffled by the palm over his lips as Hannibal pumped furiously inside of him, his free arm wrapped tightly around flexing abdominals, holding him in place as he was trapped between the ladder and the man behind him.

 

“I’m sorry,” Face forced himself to relax and accept the intrusion inside of him even as the desperately whispered words reached his brain. “You need to be quiet, no one can know, no one can ever know, I can’t ever lose you, Face...” and every frantic word was accompanied by a sharp thrust that caught Face’s prostate and made his body open up, forgetting the rush in which it had been claimed and instead accepting, _wanting_ everything Hannibal could give it.

 

“Jesus, _fuck!_ I’m gonna come! Shit, kid, I’m gonna come, need you to go first, need to see you, feel you, _smell_ you!” Face groaned in response. “Come on boy, come for me now...” At those words, Hannibal’s arm unwrapped from Face’s stomach and a shaky hand reached around the rungs of the ladder to grip Face’s cock which was frantically bobbing up and down in time with Hannibal’s thrusts. “Come for me Face – I love to watch you come...”

 

And that was all Face needed, those words, that pumping fist, the cock pounding him open, the hand on his mouth , the way he was trapped against the ladder, even the view out of the window of the soldiers enjoying some fresh air after their lunch – so close to discovering what was going on on the level above them, and he was gone, spilling his load over Hannibal’s fist, his own bunk, the rungs of the ladder, the nasty vinyl floor, wailing long and hard into Hannibal’s palm as he jerked with the force of his release.  Then Hannibal joined him, slamming his cock balls deep into the man in front of him, inhaling the glorious scent of Face’s ejaculate, grunting with each final thrust until he too was spilling, this time into Face’s body, into the warm channel that gripped him so perfectly tightly, emptying himself completely.            

 

For long moments neither of them moved.

 

Face still had both hands wrapped around the rungs of the ladder, holding himself up as he feared his legs were not up to the job quite yet. Hannibal’s hands were now just above his, one on either side, each gripping a grey metal pole as they both concentrated on getting their respiration back to normal. Face’s own cock hung flaccid and damp against his thigh, and with a slip and a rush of warmth down his leg, he felt Hannibal’s slide out of his ass, leaving him open and empty and still neither of them moved.

 

Eventually, Hannibal stiffened and lifted off a little, finding his feet before leaning back in and sliding both arms around Face’s torso, holding him close, his chin resting on a sweat slicked shoulder. “Face...” he started.

 

“Don’t say it,” Face interrupted, his forehead resting on his fingers now.

 

“I was just going to say-”

 

“I know what you were going to say and seriously boss;” he took a deep breath, “don’t say it just because you know I want to hear it, say it when you mean it.”

 

He felt Hannibal sag against him at those words, the chin on his shoulder replaced by a sweaty forehead. “Fuck kid,” he whispered sadly, “I do though, I mean it more than anything. I just never even dreamed you didn’t know that.”

 

Face didn’t reply and Hannibal didn’t elaborate and time ticked on until, almost as one, they forced themselves upright, wincing from various muscle cramps. Face reached onto his bunk and snagged a towel, ignoring the sticky white mess on his sheets, “I’d better hit the showers then,” he muttered but stopped as a firm hand grabbed his wrist.

 

“Face...” Hannibal started but stuttered to a halt once again and they looked at each other until the Colonel leaned in and gently kissed him, soft and tender and with an entire sentence behind each movement. By the time he pulled back again, Face’s heart was thumping hard against his ribs once more and the sharpness was back in his eyes but for an entirely different reason this time.

 

He smiled at Hannibal, and it was a heartfelt if maybe slightly ironic expression. “Me too, boss,” he whispered, pleased at the relief he could see in Hannibal’s eyes as they turned away from each other.

 

“Yeah, you better had hit those showers, Lieutenant,” Hannibal barked as he wiped himself down with a Kleenex, “I’m gonna be on your back all afternoon for your insubordination this morning, you understand that?”

 

Despite the very real threat he could hear in Hannibal’s voice at those words, Face couldn’t help but smile as he wandered into the crummy en-suite. Yes, he understood, for the first time since they’d started this new phase of their relationship, he finally understood. The rest would come and now, Face was happy to wait. 


End file.
